


4am music

by bblamentation



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bblamentation/pseuds/bblamentation
Summary: Adam wakes up a little too early and joins Ronan for some morning comfort.





	4am music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmiAliceinWonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiAliceinWonderland/gifts).



> This is soft and I can't believe I wrote this or even managed to when I haven't been able to write for months. This is for Emi who is the Pynch Queen and loves them too much. 
> 
> Based on the prompt: "You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?” 
> 
> If you like to read and listen to music then I would recommend Bonjah's album 'Until Dawn' (2009). This is the sort of music I had in mind for Ronan to listen to. I don't know if the album would even exist/work in the trc timeline but oh well... I was listening to a variety of chill edm/house music whilst writing this so those also fit.

Chirps in a morning are a blessing that there is peace but this particular morning they are the dreaded sign Adam had woken too early. Going back to sleep is not worth drifting back for, his dream had been unmemorable not even the feeling of the dream could linger. Sleeping for enjoyment felt unproductive as he would have to leave for work in two hours. Staring at the ceiling of the Barn’s guest room had no appeal despite the decorative swirls and marks. He is alone.

With a sigh and a roll out of the bed, Adam makes his way to the room down the hallway. He stands outside the door that resides a Lynch with a tentativeness of guilt for waking the boy who never sleeps; something about the closed door unnerves Adam despite having entered the room so many times before. He begins to understand how Ronan always has a shift of hesitance about him when Adam opens the door to St. Agnes.

“Lynch.” Adam knocks on the door to the room Ronan has had since childhood. The knock is more of a courtesy than anything to rouse his partner. Whether the insomniac had managed to sleep or he was awake to the night’s call, Ronan wouldn’t answer. He tries again, before he opens the door, making it a point to make as much noise with the door handle and as much movement that it would catch Ronan’s ear or eye.

Opening the door to the room of Ronan’s childhood Adam sees the insomniac that comes to St. Agnes, idly tapping his foot to the rhythm of whatever he has blasting in his ears, but it feels like he’s watching the dreamer lost in his own thoughts. There’s a quick sting of guilt that he has disturbed Ronan but the look of curious acknowledgement sent his way is more than a welcome.

Ronan glances to the clock on his bedside table before giving a lazy greeting, “mornin’.” Adam returns the greeting not sure if Ronan can hear him or would just read his lips. Either way Ronan nods.

Ronan shifts in his bed adjusting himself to sit up—he must have slowly been sinking into his bed. Adam takes that as invitation and closes the door behind him. He moves to sit next to Ronan but their bodies are too broad for a single bed and Adam shuffles to lay beside him. He adjusts himself next to Ronan, getting more annoyed he can’t find a comfortable position to rest his head or his limbs.

“Take your time, Parrish,” Ronan says. Adam bites himself from saying something back to the tease. He’s too tired, instead he grunts and hopes it’s loud enough for Ronan through humming headphones.

It takes him five more adjustments before Adam settles on resting his head on the pillow Ronan is sat on. His head’s close to Ronan’s side enough to see crawling tattoos but too close to be able to see any facial features. His legs, or rather his knees, are tucked under Ronan’slegs comfortable unless Ronan decides to move. Adam has his left right arm wrapped round himself to avoid trapping and numbing his arm under himself but his other arm awkwardly tries to find a place to lay. The few options he has left is to twist his arm to sit on himself or to invade more of Ronan’s space.

Only able to see Ronan’s side, invasion of privacy is hard to gauge. He can’t see whether Ronan’s comfortable but he takes the lack of tension as a good sign. Ronan gives no objections and so Adam drapes his arm across Ronan’s waist. Another second passes for Adam to wait for Ronan’s denial. Instead of an objection Adam can feel the brush of Ronan’s fingers on the back of his hand. It’s delicate enough to send a rush of warmth over Adam and it takes another moment to process that Ronan is asking to hold his hand. Adam turns his hand over and let’s Ronan link their hands together. Sometimes it takes more than a brush to understand hands are just as soft as they can be strong.

Ronan’s hands are more than trust.

Adam closes his eyes with ease in finding a somewhat comfortable position and rests. There’s no need to embrace sleep once more but Adam can take this moment of calm before a strenuous day of work. He needs to work so much more with school finished and college around the corner. On some days, the calendar seemed to mark college with a daunting countdown whilst others felt a distant future he thought he could never achieve.

Whilst thoughts were drifting to the prospect of college, Adam could feel the slight tugging of his hair being pulled on. Fingers twirling strands of hair that had knotted themselves during the night’s sleep. It’s not enough of a pull to hurt but it’s enough to move thoughts towards Ronan.

He’s glad he can speak about college more openly with Ronan than when the first acceptance letters had come through the door. At first they had both been on edge unsure of how their new relationship would stay in a change of place but after long talks and meaningful arguments, they had somehow managed to plan for every possibility. All that is left is the days of reassurance.

Ronan still has his hand in Adam’s hair but more with noticing the hand in his hair he’s noticed the lax embrace of their interlocking hands.

“You come to my room and wake me up at 4am to cuddle?” Ronan says.

Adam gives a short laugh, “you might be a dreamer but you certainly weren’t sleeping.”

Ronan hums, pausing the strokes in his hair.

“You should grow your own hair,” Adam jests. "You could run your fingers through it all day."

“Not as fun,” Ronan says returning his fingers to running through Adam’s hair. He brushes the tufts as though his fingers are a loving comb that finds home in Adam’s hair.

“I take it you’re not listening to music anymore,” Adam guesses.

“Just finished the album,” Ronan says. “You can listen if you want?” Ronan moves his hands to reach for his headphones (Adam assumes they wrapped round his neck as he did not feel Ronan shift to take them off) but before Ronan can move Adam squeezes the hand he has.

“No,” Adam says sternly. “I’m not having squash one blasting in my ears.”

Ronan laughs. Adam both hears and feels it and it’s something he finds he wants more of in a morning. “Squash one isn’t a morning song.”

“My car thinks otherwise,” Adam groans. The amount of times Adam has had to listen to the song on the mixtape, Adam has sworn that the mixtape had been made with some element of a dream.

Adam expects Ronan to defend the song but instead he feels soft foam cup his good ear blocking Ronan’s breathing and replacing it with murmurs of string before strums of an acoustic guitar fill his head. The song takes over with a male voice talking to him in a lull and a longing. It takes a few lines before Adam squeezes Ronan’s hand and slowly starts tapping to the beats strumming in his head. His eyes trace the strands of tattoos that he can see in the low morning light. Adam tries to focus on the lyrics unsure what the song means or what the song means to Ronan.

As the music fades out, Adam squeezes Ronan’s hand and shifts on the bed to prop himself up on his elbow, right hand still interlocked with Ronan’s. He tries his best not to move the lower half of his body lest he wants to fall of the bed. Adam can see Ronan’s face for what feels like the first time since yesterday.

Blue eyes look at expectantly as open as if Ronan had spilled a deep secret. “Finished?” The question is just something to say to break the silence (or at least for the silence Ronan had been in) as Ronan takes the headphones back and wraps it round his neck with one hand.

Adam nods. “It’s good,” he says not sure what the appropriate response is.

Ronan nods, eyes closed, accepting. When he opens them again, he breathes out, and speaks as though his next words are a confession, “my dad listened to a variety of music but that was what both he and my mum listened to.” Adam can see Ronan is trying not to let show how much the songs mean to him. His lips are pressed in a straight line and his brows furrow slightly. But they both know Adam can read Ronan.

It’s the hand holding Adam’s that gives it away.

“Romantic.”

Ronan rolls his eyes but Adam watches Ronan’s shoulders lax. “If you think it’s romantic you have low standards.”

Adam nudges the side of Ronan’s leg with the hand he has himself propped on. Ronan frowns. Music to Ronan was not something to merely listen to. Whilst there were nights Adam avoided because Ronan would blast loud basslines and electronica, the music Ronan chose to listen to was more than notes. They had a rhythm of nostalgia and meaning. It was for the one reason, Adam took more care with the mixtape in his car. “I enjoyed it anyway,” Adam says lamely. It’s not what he wants to say but he takes the appreciation of the music to heart.

They both half-sit on Ronan’s bed watching the other. Neither quite sure what they’re supposed to do so early in the morning (or late at night for the insomniac). Ronan shifts forward slightly and returns his hands through Adam’s hair. Adam watches Ronan brush the hair from his face as though Ronan is trying to find something. He slows and drags his hand back.

“The whole album’s forty minutes.”

“I have time.”

With no other response than Ronan looking at Adam’s arm still draped across his lap, they slipped their hands from their embrace and made room so Adam could sit upright whilst Ronan fiddled with his music player. Disconnecting the headphones and dialling the speakers so the strums of guitars started filling the room reaching from their ears to the window letting the slow morning light in.

As the music replays the song Adam had just heard, the two boys adjust themselves so they can lay down on the single bed. It’s far more comfortable to face each other, legs draping over one another, hands slipping back into touches. Ronan closes his eyes ready to end the long night. He rests to the album he has heard more than can be counted by memory. It takes more thought for Adam to promise himself he won’t sleep before he has work.


End file.
